Wednesday, March 5

The Mongoose

In her ebon tower through panes of quartz
The mirthless beauty gazed down
 And sought the one who’d come to court
To win her radiant crown.
Lachrymose beads escaped her eyes
To pool on the marble floor;
 No fish’s belly nor fox’s den
Held him who she so wept for.
Many a head had been sawed from its neck
In attempt to win her hand,
Though not for them did the lady grieve
But for thought she’d not outwit this man.
Ne’er could she know in her pearly hair
Had a mongoose made its nest;
And here was the one, transformed by a spell
Who soon would her cunning best.
Weep, for the sorcery works strange ways;
A door moves both in and out.
When one may think his fate is won,
The seed of another sprouts.

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